


The First Objective

by Alibaba (TheGreatWeissShark)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Discussion of Abortion, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Peer Pressure, Romance, Teen Pregnancy, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-11 12:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11148069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatWeissShark/pseuds/Alibaba
Summary: One night and one more for the road became every chance they could until they had to say goodbye.Futaba was ready for it—to live life without her key item by her side until they were older and wiser—and she could handle it with a brave smile on her face, because he never really left her; Joker was forever in her heart and a simple text away. And it was easy once she realized that this was just another multi-part questline like her promise list. Only instead of a pat on her head, she'd be walking down the isle with him as her final reward.A month had passed without any incident and Futaba’s life carried on as normal. She's entered her first year at Shujin and, despite being a year older than her peers, has made herself a name and a close clique of friends. One day, after a particularly gruelling week, Futaba drags herself to Le Blanc for dinner. It was the usual deal, coffee and curry, only it smelled... different... and Futaba didn’t know why.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be fun, kek.

“But maybe we should make one more… for the road,” Futaba whispered, resting her head against Akira's shoulder. Her heart had been going ten miles a minute trying to come up with a way to properly close the gap between them, but one look into those relaxing dark eyes of his made all her mental preparation go out the window.

“What do you have in mind?” Akira lifted his arm and wrapped it around Futaba’s slim waist so she could lean more comfortably against him. He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. “Video games or a movie perhaps? I'm good with whatever.”

Futaba loved his considerate nature and the way he always put her first, but tonight she wanted something special—it was Valentine’s day after all. 

“Futaba?” he called questioningly when she didn’t immediately respond with her usual quick wit. “You AFK?” 

“You dork!” she snorted out laughing. Futaba slapped his chest playfully and sandwiched his face between both her hands, forcing the boy to look directly at her. “Hey, hey, do y-you love me? Like, really, really love me?” Futaba asked as bravely as she could muster. “Be honest or I'll post that picture of you wearing our matching onesies.”

He melted in her touch, laughing at the empty threat. He knew Futaba would never share the picture mostly because she was posing adorably in it with him, arms wrapped possessively around his neck, pressing her lips to his cheek. Akira nodded his head, smiling even wider, “More than anything and anyone in this world.”

“S-S-Say it!” 

“I love you, Futaba.”

Taking in the deepest breath her lungs could hold, Futaba exhaled and quickly positioned herself to straddle Akira's lap. She had both hands planted squarely against his chest, pinning the startled boy's back to his seat. He looked up at her curiously and saw she had her eyes shut tight. Futaba was trembling against him but every time he tried to push her back to her old spot beside him, she dug her nails deep into the fabric of his shirt and clamped her thighs to his waist. Akira was at a loss for words but understood what Futaba was trying to do.

“Hey, hey, hey, Futaba, ease up for a bit,” he said softly trying to comfort her. Akira brushed his fingers across her bangs and cupped her face lovingly with his hands. “Look at me.” Futaba shook her head. “Please?”

“O-Okay,” she quickly gave in and slowly opened her eyes to stare back at him, blushing a bright crimson when she saw his unwavering smile. “Don’t… Don't l-look at me like that, Joker!”

“Like what?” he asked, looking as innocent as can be.

“Like that!” Futaba shouted. “L-Like I'm the only one in the world…” Her words ended on a whisper as she lowered her gaze again. “M-My heart can’t handle it.”

“Well,” Akira said while looking around the empty restaurant, “I don’t see anyone else here, so you'll have to forgive me for that.”

"Jerk..."

Futaba’s mulberry eyes settled on Akira’s lips, flickering back to his curious stare for permission before leaning in. Their lips met for an innocent kiss, a staple in their blossoming relationship, and broke apart after only a few seconds. Futaba’s cheeks held a rosy blush that made Akira’s chest fill with pride; he did this to her. Him. And only him. Futaba had nerves of steel when it came to other men, her savage, quick-witted retorts having shot down more hopeful individuals, like the desperate _Nishima_ , than Akira could count. And to add insult to injury, she didn’t even realize she was doing it. 

“More,” she mewled, pawing at her boyfriend's chest, “I-I want more.”

Akira readily complied and kissed her with more force. Their soft kisses were mostly reserved for greetings and goodbyes, though they never went beyond a wave or a friendly fist-bump if they ran the risk of being seen. But when they were alone with no chance of being caught or happened upon, their kisses and touches breached the boarders between the moderately risqué and the full on indecent. No one would believe him if he admitted it, but Futaba was the instigator when it came to their not-so-innocent exchanges; Akira had been thoroughly surprised the first time her small hand slipped under his shirt while the other playfully grabbed at the bulge in his pants.

Futaba particularly enjoyed teasing him during their more heated exchanges by grinding herself against his crotch, leaving him hard and desperate for more. It was a test though, Futaba never said it outright, but she wanted to see how well he could control himself. The girl was a genius by all definition and an expert in the field of psychology. Any other boy left in his predicament would have called her a tease and forced her to do something she clearly wasn’t comfortable with or worse, seek relief elsewhere. But Akira never strayed, he couldn’t even imagine it, and Futaba knew that so she let him do whatever he needed to finish without penetration or direct contact below the belt—everything else above was free game however. Futaba kept him more than satisfied with or without the sexual pretext, he loved her after all.

“I love you,” Akira whispered after he broke the kiss and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. She giggled and sighed as she ran her hands across his toned back. “I really, really love you.”

“Then take me upstairs,” she commanded fearlessly with a confidence he’d only seen her show whenever she was in front of a computer screen. 

Akira pulled his face away to look at her properly, confused as to why they had to move. The doors to Le Blanc were closed and Sojiro wasn’t coming back anytime soon, plus it was kind of exciting to fool around in the quaint little restaurant knowing Futaba still had it bugged.

“We’re not going to stop here,” Futaba said. “We’re finishing it with both of us feeling satisfied for once.”

“But, um,” Akira blushed, a strange occurrence for the perpetually levelheaded boy, “I don’t have anything prepared.” Which was the truth since he thought Futaba would want to wait much longer before officially consummating their relationship. “If you’re sure you want to do something, there are other things we can do. And as much as I’d love to go all the way, I don’t want to go without… y'know. I love you too much to do this irresponsibly.” 

Loving his careful thought process, Futaba kissed the tip of his nose earning herself a frustrated grunt from the boy.

“I'm being serious here,” he said sternly.

Futaba snorted at the seriousness in her boyfriend’s voice and laughed out loud. “You’re so cute,” she said grinning ear to ear. “Cracking 101: always keep yourself protected. When you go into a system always prepare to get back doored yourself.”

“Um…”

“Not that back door, you pervert,” Futaba said pointedly.

Akira relaxed in his seat, both hands clasped behind Futaba’s back comfortably. “How much thought have you put into this actually?” he asked her. But knowing how his girlfriend's brilliant brain worked, he suspected she’d planned this the night before after a burst of inspiration.

Tapping her chin in thought, Futaba hummed and said, “After we kicked Shido's butt. I needed some time to think so I didn’t really expect to do anything, but then we died. I… I tried going to you, but you were so far away and I couldn’t move; I was so scared. And when we were in the Velvet room, I spent most of it regretting how I never got to show you how I felt…”

“I had no idea,” Akira whispered in deep thought.

“So when I saw you outside my cell, I decided then and there that I wasn’t going to waste anymore time,” Futaba said with conviction. “Y'know the American saying 'Netflix and chill'? Well, we have your room and video games.”

“And you called me the pervert,” Akira chuckled with a smirk.

“I dare you to say that again!” Futaba growled, grabbing Joker's cheeks threateningly. The boy immediately dropped his grin, fearing the same treatment Morgana suffered through. “Good boy,” she said patting his head. “Anyways, as I was saying… I wanted you. It was Christmas eve, it would’ve been perfect, but then you ruined the mood by not telling me the truth.”

“I'm really sorry about that,” Akira said pleadingly. “I was terrified…”

“And how did you think I felt getting woken up and told my boyfriend was getting arrested after he saved the world?!” Futaba shouted angrily. “You should have told me! I would have understood a-and… I might not have spent that whole day and every day after that crying.”

“I'm sorry…”

“I-I was s-so ready… to go all the way with you. I had my mind all made up and everything,” Futaba cried, her tears freely falling. “We would have had something concrete to remember until we were together again, instead all we had was me shutting you down and walking home alone.”

“It was wrong of me not to tell you,” Akira said shakily. “It was selfish and I understand that, but I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to upset you by ruining our night… I-I… Futaba, you and everyone else we care about, that was all I could think about when I agreed to turn myself in.”

“You stupid, selfless boy!” Futaba shouted, “You better take responsibility for all the crap you put me through!”

“And I will,” he said reassuringly, “but not tonight when the nearest convenience store is the one your dad goes to.”

“Ugh!” Futaba groaned, face-palming. “Cracker 101, do I have to remind you?”

“Always use protection?”

“No,” Futaba growled. “Be. Pre. Pared!”

“Don’t tell me you…” he looked down at her pockets.

“I carry more than just extra provisions and gear in here,” Futaba said pointing to the pack strapped to her hip. 

“So that’s why you never let anyone see inside it,” Akira said after realization dawned on him.

Futaba smirked. “So are you going to take me upstairs or did I just waste ¥1000?”

“Are you sure?” Akira asked still patiently waiting for Futaba to change her mind. “There’s no going back if we do this.”

“You’re carrying me up there just so you know,” Futaba said, ignoring his questions. “Now let’s go!”

Shaking his head with a laugh, Akira scooted himself to the edge of the booth, holding Futaba tightly against his body, and stood up. She yelped in surprise before giggling gleefully and wiggling her suspended legs in the air. Akira smiled at her and repositioned his arms so he could carry Futaba as safely and as comfortably as he could. 

“Who needs Prometheus when I have you!” Futaba exclaimed. 

“But I thought you loved your neon death star?” Akira said.

“Heh, pop culture references and good looks, I think I'm going to marry you.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

“You’re holding me already.”

Akira carefully climbed up the stairs with one arm holding Futaba and the other gripping the bannister. “And I'm never going to let you go.”

“That better be a promise," she whispered in his ear when he laid her down on the bed.


	2. Life Goes On

 

_Moonlight filtered in through the window of Le Blanc’s attic, filling Akira's temporary abode with a relaxing pale glow. Futaba was lying flat on her back with Akira straddling her hips as he threw off his apron and she unbuckled his belt. Biting her bottom lip in anticipation, Futaba watched the boy of her dreams pull his beige sweater over his head and throw it across the room. He was everything she expected and more. The days and nights he spent at the gym training his body into peak physical condition had definitely paid off._

_“W-Wow…” Futaba mumbled as she ran an eager finger down his washboard abs. “Jeez Joker, I always wondered how you managed to do all those crazy flips and stuff, but now I know.”_

_Akira laughed at his girlfriend’s astonishment and flexed his muscles, drawing an even bigger reaction out from her._

_“Like what you see?”_

_“Can I do my laundry on you?” Futaba asked as she poked and prodded the well-defined lines framing Akira’s core. “Like, I know you’re tall enough to use as a clothes line but… t-this is unreal… whoa.”_

_Futaba’s rapt attention and warm hands sent shivers up the former Phantom Thief's spine as the younger girl stoked the fires of his passion and stroked his ego. Sakura Futaba, brilliant, charismatic, and so painfully adorable she stole his heart when he was supposed to be stealing hers, had no idea what she was doing to him._

_“I know you’re having fun, but isn’t it your turn?” Akira said eyeing his girlfriend’s layered top._

_“U-Um… y-yeah…” Futaba nervously grabbed the hems of her shirts and pulled it over her head reluctantly. Futaba didn’t wear a bra, she didn’t really have to since she didn’t have much there to begin with; a tight fitting tank top worked well enough. “Sorry…” she apologized, dejectedly folding her arms across her minuscule breasts in embarrassment._

_“For what?” Akira asked as he gently pried her arms apart so he could see, but politely didn’t look down until he had her consent._

_“For being so… ugh, y'know? Just, ugh.”_

_Compared to her bombastic fellow female thieves and the Amazon Dominatrix Makoto affectionately called “Onee-chan”, Futaba firmly believed that she had the sex appeal of a linguine noodle and resigned herself to the sad life of a waifu warrior. In fact, when Akira first asked her to be his girlfriend, Futaba flipped through every conceivable kink she could think of that matched her quirky personality and bland physical traits. Nothing came up so she simply stared at him until reality settled in._

_Akira shook his head in confusion. “Ugh?” he repeated after her. “What do you mean by 'ugh'?”_

_“Flat-chested and forever tiny?” Futaba said crossing her arms over her chest again. “I could probably fit in your bag if we tried hard enough.”_

_“You’re not tiny, just fun sized,” Akira smiled._

_“Fun size? Joker, are you kidding me right now?”_

_“No.”_

_“Oh,” Futaba blinked, lowering her defense, “w-when you put it that way, I guess it does sound kind of nice.”_

_Taking her relaxed posture and expression as consent, Akira looked at his long-awaited prize. Futaba had nothing to be ashamed of. She was small, there was no doubt about that, but she fit against him perfectly like the missing puzzle piece he'd been looking for all his life. He honestly didn’t know what she was complaining about. Her breasts were just the right size, not too big and not too small; an exact fit for his palm._

_“You’re beautiful, Futaba.”_

_“And you’re really, really hot. Why hasn’t Ann stolen you away from me yet?” Futaba grumbled, letting her insecurities slip through. “You two would make one hell of a baby.”_

_“I’d rather make one with you,” Akira replied without hesitation. Futaba's immediate kneejerk reaction was to punch him in the stomach, but she only ended up hurting herself and tick_ _ling him when all was said and done. “Wha—?!”_

_“Ow!” she shrieked._

_“A-Are you okay?”_

_“Screw you for s-saying s-s-something off-limits like that!” Futaba continued to scream and stutter._

_“But you said it first,” Akira grumbled quietly. “Wait, ignore that for a second. Why did you specifically bring Ann up?”_

_“You’ve known her longer than me, she’s a model, and she’s totally sexy,” Futaba said suddenly much calmer now that they were treading through familiar waters. “When we were all officially introduced, I thought you two were dating or at least had an obvious crush on each other… the way you two talked so… so… ugh, I was hella jealous from day one!”_

_“To be perfectly honest with you,” Akira shifted uncomfortably above Futaba, the strain in his trousers less noticeable since their talk began, “I did like her once at some point.”_

_“What?! Minus ten points for not telling me this!”_

_“But you know how you literally came out of the closet when we were trying to steal your heart?” Futaba nodded. “She did that figuratively in the symbolic sense.”_

_Futaba’s eyes widened at the shocking revelation. “No… you’re kidding me.”_

_“Ann's gay,” Akira confirmed. “I'm the only one other than Suzui-san that knows, but she’s kind of a given since they’re dating. I think."_

_“I had no idea!” Futaba exclaimed, stitching together a patchwork of clues that seemed so painfully obvious now in hindsight._

_“That’s the point of a secret.”_

_Ann was really into skinship, but she really only ever touched the guys. The day they spent at the beach, Ann had no problem flaunting her dynamite body around their friends, she even made a spectacle of it by jokingly clinging to Ryuji and outright teased him. Ann also stayed a safe, respectable distance away from Makoto and Haru whenever the group got together._

_“Crispy chicken nuggets, Joker, it makes so much sense!”_

_“If you’re not comfortable with how close she is to me, I can talk to her about it; she’ll understand.”_

_“No, no!” Futaba protested. “I’m not taking this away from her! You guys are best friends, but I was always worried you two would become more than that…”_

_“Futaba, when you jumped out of your closet and slid back in, I immediately knew you were the one for me,” Akira confessed. “Any lingering feelings I had for Ann disappeared that instant. Futaba, you're…”_

“—ra-chan… Saku—… Sakura-chan!”

“Ha-wa-wawa-wa!?” Futaba's head shot up from her resting position, looking around her surroundings frantically looking for the boy she’d just been with. “Huh?”

A tall, athletically built girl with dark brown hair, and even darker coloured eyes, looked down at Futaba curiously. She wore the same Shujin Academy uniform Futaba wore, but her more matured body filled it out much better. Her name was Mizutani Sara and she was Futaba’s self-proclaimed best friend and personal bodyguard. Futaba didn’t mind her puppy-like attachment, she was a good girl, a little on the dense side, but she was honest and genuinely liked Futaba’s eccentricities. Sara was also the tallest person in their year making her the perfect meat shield, though Ryuji and his ridiculously thick skull were still top contenders.

“S-Sara?” Futaba breathed with a blush, she’d been caught daydreaming in class again. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Sara chirped. “Class just ended for the day, but you haven’t looked away from the window since Ms. Chouno started talking. You feel okay? You were looking really pale, well, paler than you usually are. Feeling sick? Want me to walk you home?”

“O-Oh, um, I'm okay. I was actually just thinking about the new CPU Aitel's releasing next month,” she said. It wasn’t a complete lie since she was thinking about mailing Akira some of her old PC parts before her mind wandered off. “It’s supposedly better than their last one, but I totally doubt it. The specs are practically the same, even down to how many—”

“U-Um… huh?” Now it was Sara's turn to blink in confusion. “I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.”

“No, that’s my bad. I keep forgetting not everyone’s as interested in computers as me,” Futaba said with a lonely hint in her voice.

Sara didn’t know much about her orange haired classmate other than the fact her dad owned a small café, and that she was a whole year older than their classmates. Futaba explained that she had to take a year off due to personal reasons. Though before they became friends, Sara heard some particularly nasty rumours about Futaba that made her uncomfortable. She didn’t believe most of them but where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

People talked about how someone matching Futaba's description had been spotted exiting a love hotel with some tall, dark haired guy. It sounded utterly preposterous now since the one who initially spread the rumour was a flashy gyaru in their class named Jougasaki Chidori. That girl had it out for Futaba since day one and body really knew why or had the guts to stop her... that is until Chidori took it a step too far in front of Sara. 

They both got a stern lecture from the principal about proper classroom etiquette and sentenced them both to a week of detention. Sara's punishment was supposed to be harsher since she knocked the bully out with a punch, but the student council, which Futaba revealed herself to be a member of, stepped in and vouched for her. Futaba had been patiently compiling evidence against Chidori and her co-conspirators. So instead of what she was supposed to get added on top of the detention, Sara had instead been released into the student council's care until further notice.

"It kind of sucks to be me some times," Futaba whispered.

"Sakura-chan..." Just as Sara moved in to comfort her friend, the class doors rattled open.

“Yo!” Ryuji shouted with a grin as he made his big entrance. “You ready, Futaba? Makoto's got the car waiting outside.”

“Crap, I forgot that was today!” Futaba yelped.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Ann teased as she strutted in with Niijima Makoto following close behind.

The whispers started picking up when Shujin’s new council president appeared beside her well-respected predecessor. By now Ryuji was a common sight in their classroom and no body paid him any mind, he was always barging in just to talk to Futaba and no body else, but Takamaki Ann was a special guest in class 1-A.

“There’s no need to rush though,” Makoto said politely. “But unless you want to run the risk of Yusuke eating your share of the travel snacks, then I suggest you pick up the pace.”

“That damn Inari!” Futaba growled as she stuffed her things into her book bag.

“C'mon, dude, let’s go!” Ryuji whined.

Sara looked at the three older students wearily. “Sakura-chan?”

“Sorry, Sara, I'll have to catch up with you later,” Futaba apologized as she looked over her shoulder.

“Cake and steak, cake and steak!” Ryuji chanted. “Aw man, I can practically taste the meat already!”

“Shut up, you’re making me hungry!” Ann growled as she wrestled her fellow blonde into a headlock.

“I give! I give!” the boy cried out, tapping Ann's arm to release him.

Makoto sighed disapprovingly at the people she elected to take her place. They hadn’t changed at all and that might have been why the school seemed to be so alive. Though that might have been because Mishima was onboard to help tackle and tame the mountainous administrative duties that once threatened to swallow Makoto whole.

Tired of Ryuji and Ann's ridiculous antics, Makoto shifted her gaze away from the bickering duo over to Futaba and her friend. The tall girl wore a look of sadness on her face as Futaba prepared to leave her behind. Makoto knew that empty feeling well and decided then and there that one more person in their jeep couldn’t hurt.

“Futaba-chan, why not invite your friend?” Makoto suggested with a smile.

Futaba looked at her and beamed. “For real?! Sara, want to come with?” she immediately asked. “I promise it'll be a blast.”

“Um…” Sara hesitated and prepared to decline the sudden invitation, but the pure excitement in Futaba’s eyes pushed away all her fears. “Sure, I'd love to, but where are we going?”

“Fufu, you’ll just have to wait and see!” the bespectacled girl grinned, pushing her glasses up mysteriously.

Without any further questions, Sara quickly gathered her things and followed the eccentric group out the door. They walked through the throng of first year students proudly, parting the crowd straight down the middle. Futaba seemed so in tune with Ann, Makoto, and Ryuji. She was smiling bright and bounced with an infectious of energy that spread to those she as talking to, Futaba was actually contributing to the conversation. It was a refreshing sight, but Sara realized how far she truly was from seeing Futaba’s true self.

The trek through Shujin was a lonely one for Sara. She didn’t know how to interact with the group without embarrassing herself, which in turn meant embarrassing Futaba by association. When they reached the school gates Futaba’s phone rang and Sara saw her opening.

“Ossu!” the bespectacled girl greeted. “Tonight? Um… I dunno, I promised everyone we’d hit the buffet—yeah, the investment was a success. They’re asking if we’re open to a partnership… mhm, I didn’t give them the OK yet, I wanted to discuss it with you first.”

Confused about what Futaba was talking about, Sara bravely tapped Ryuji on the shoulder. “Senpai, what does Sakura-chan mean by 'investments'?”

“Uh…” the blonde boy rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a money thing. Futaba’s kind of our personal accountant.”

“Yup, we’re totally rollin' in it!” Futaba snickered, her smile wider than Sara had even seen it. 

“Don’t think too hard on it,” Makoto said. “Though what Ryuji said is correct for the most part, it’s certainly more than just a 'money thing'.”

“Yeah! We’ve got stocks and stuff for a whole bunch of places,” Ann continued. “And Futaba manages it all with Akira.”

“Who’s Akira?” Sara asked.

“Futaba’s big bro and my best bud,” Ryuji cut in, scratching his chest as he grinned brightly. “He’s the reason we’re all friends.”

“I didn’t know Sakura-chan had an older brother,” Sara whispered to herself when everyone turned their attention back to the supposed accountant.

“Wait, wait, wait! You’re free tonight? Like, actually free?” Futaba gasped suddenly in a panic. “You’re not just saying that right? I'll trash your room if you’re lying to me.”

“So much for cake and steak with Futaba,” Ann said with a suppressed chuckle.

“Aw man, I was hoping she’d referee…” Ryuji whined, kicking the road.

“Guys, I gotta bail!” Futaba exclaimed as she tucked her phone away. “Akira’s—”

“Baah, just go already!” Ryuji impatiently roared but grinned. “We overheard the whole thing. Toss Makoto or Ann the card and I'll get it back to you tomorrow morning.”

Futaba nodded and pulled out her wallet. She opened it and sorted through its various contents. “Make sure Sara has fun for me,” Futaba said as she handed a shining plastic card to Makoto.

“Wait, Sakura-chan, if you’re not going anymore then I don’t have a reason to stay,” Sara said panicking. “This is a private gathering, I’d only be intruding.”

Ryuji scoffed at the complaint and tossed an arm across Sara's shoulder making her blush; she’d never been his close to a boy before.

“Intruding? Naw. A friend of Futaba’s is a friend of ours. Plus, we still gotta thank ya for sticking up for her. Think of today as your official recruitment party!”

“Recruitment for what?”

“The League of Super Awesome Best Friends,” Ryuji answered. “You’re totally in.”

Sara instinctively looked to Futaba for support, but the diminutive girl was no where in sight. “Huh?” Sara blinked. “Where’s…?”

“Yeah, she tends to do that,” Ann said with a sigh. “She’ll text you later, but for now let’s get going! Yusuke's probably starving by now.”

“The dude’s ways starving,” Ryuji commented gruffly.

“Yes, well, let’s not keep him and Haru waiting any longer then,” Makoto said with a nod. “I promise you’ll be fine, um…?”

“Mizutani Sara,” Sara introduced herself with a respectful bow. “I guess I'll be in your care.”

* * *

  
Futaba rushed home in a frenzy. Akira was free for the first time this month and that meant she’d have him all to herself. They could game together or video chat or better yet both!

Using some of the money they made through their adventures as the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Akira built himself a serviceable PC with Futaba’s help. Futaba had been thrilled watching him assemble the machine, but that joy couldn’t compare to the elation she felt knowing that he’d told her the truth. She could clearly recall the day they spent together reading PC magazines in his room. In hindsight Futaba realized that she had already been falling for him and the magazines were her way of introducing Akira to her world. She wanted to show him what interested her and he hadn’t disappointed. Akira was completely honest when he said he didn’t know computers as well as Futaba did, but the pride on his face when he explained that he knew the necessary basics was priceless.

Futaba made a quick stop in the small grocery store hear her house for some extra snacks when her phone buzzed. Her face lit up thinking it was Akira checking up on her but to her dismay it was only Ryuji with an update. He sent her a picture of Sara sitting in Akira’s honorary spot with her gigantic serving of salad. It was a poorly composed shot, but what Futaba really took from the picture wasn’t the look of absolute bliss on Sara’s face or the stray finger conveniently blocking Yusuke’s head from view, it was the shy glance Ann was sending an oblivious Makoto who was busy conversing with Haru. Futaba grinned slyly at the new development and decided to save the snapshot to share it with Akira later, if anyone could give her the hidden details it would be him.

“Ara ara, Futaba-chan, what a surprise to see you here,” an elderly woman called as she walked up to her.

Futaba adjusted her glasses and waved at the woman whose name she could never remember. “Greetings,” Futaba said with a polite smile.

The woman nodded her head. “Are you out on an errand for Sou-chan?”

“Nope,” Futaba chirped. “Getting snacks. Date with my boyfriend tonight.”

“Boyfriend?” The woman looked pleasantly surprised. “Oh my, no wonder you look so happy; you’re positively glowing!”

“Hehe,” Futaba folded her hands behind her back bashfully. She’d been working up the courage to tell people about her relationship for a while now, but this marked the first time she’d said it out loud to someone other than Akira and it felt so liberating.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” the lady said. “Say hi to Sou-chan for me. I hope you have a wonderful night.”

“You too,” Futaba grinned.

Waving goodbye, Futaba walked past the old woman and rounded the snack isle. She perused the shelves, keeping a brisk pace, looking for anything that caught her eye. Her favourite bag of chips were on sale, but she had a couple stashed away somewhere in her room so she ignored them. After looking through everything once, Futaba repeated her search with a more critical eye. The results came back with a big fat negative stamped on and Futaba angrily left the store empty handed.

Her usual snacks hadn’t been sitting well with her lately. Ann jokingly said it was because her pallet was finally maturing to catch up with all the coffee she drank, but it was a solid point. Futaba did notice she was acting more mature these days, at least compared to her fellow first years and Ryuji. So maybe she was growing up after all; that wasn’t so bad. No, it was great! She could go out with Akira and look like his girlfriend instead of his little sister, though no one could say that if they knew about the things she did to him.

Futaba buried her face in the palm of her hand and forced her dirty thoughts back into the dark recesses of her head where they belonged.

“Summer vacation can’t get here soon enough,” she mumbled, sighing heavily, dragging on foot in front of the other.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Futaba came out of the closet I knew right then and there that she was the one for me. Makoto and Haru just couldn't compete. 
> 
> ... please don't remind me of the Kawakami route. The goosebumps still haven't left and I'm on my fifth playthrough.


	3. Something Smells Phishy

“Sojiro, another!” Futaba slurred, pushing her empty glass of chocolate milk to the exasperated man behind the bar. “And make it a double!”

“Uh,” Sojiro scratched the top of his head, “that was your third glass, you’re going to make yourself sick y'know?”

“Forget that! I already make myself sick!” Futaba cried theatrically, swapping moods like a light switch. “Do you know what that jerk's friends said about me? _Me_?!”

“Oh boy, do I want to know?”

Futaba lifted her head up slowly to face her father, tears and snot staining her pretty face. “They told him to ditch the 'kid' and hangout with them instead. And do you know what he did?!”

“Go… with them?” Sojiro slowly answered, bracing himself preemptively for the next tirade.

“No, he told them to lay off and go home!” Futaba shouted, throwing her arms up. “That adorable jerkwad straight up told his friends to buzz off! He did that for me, but do you know what I did?”

“Say thank you?”

“No!” she screamed, slamming her open palms down loudly. “I told him to go with them because friendship is magic and that we could just hangout another day. Another. Day! Sojiro, tell me… why did I have to be so nice? Damn this retched heart of gold, damn it to hell!”

Sojiro pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. How did his night end up like this? It was so peaceful just half an hour ago, but now his few remaining customers were giving him questioning looks. Thankfully it was only Mrs. Taniguchi and her husband, longtime regulars of his that were oddly taken by Futaba’s wild antics; she apparently reminded them of their rambunctious grandchildren. Sojiro didn’t understand how anyone could ever relate their teenager to his. She was one in a trillion just like Wakaba.

“Wait, wait, wait. Back up a second here and let me get this straight,” Sojiro said as he took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You and the kid were going to hangout.”

“Yeah,” Futaba said sniffling adorably.

“And you did, but then his friends showed up?”

“Mhm."

“I'm not really seeing a problem here,” Sojiro pointed out. “You already spent some time with him, so why are you complaining?”

“Because he promised me the whole night!” Futaba whined. “He’s been so busy lately…”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sojiro thought hard about what he was going to say next. He felt bad their plans fell through, but Futaba was the one who told Akira to go on ahead after he already declined their invitation. To Sojiro it seemed like Akira intended to keep his promise, so why convince him otherwise? It was almost as if…

“Hey, are you guys still a thing?” Sojiro asked softly, trying to coax an answer. “Be honest with me here.”

“Uh, doy?” Futaba rolled her eyes and scoffed at him like he’d just ask her the world’s most obvious question. “Just because he moved doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. Welcome to the age of technology, daddy-o! My boytoy's practically living in my pocket.”

“Huh, well, how about that? I'm actually really surprised,” Sojiro admitted.

“Why?”

“Long-distance relationships in general hardly ever last, even more so with boys his age,” he explained, drawing upon his years of experience. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say here?”

Futaba blinked and pushed up her glasses. “I’ve seen the girls in his class, Sojiro. I may not have much but I ain’t that butt ugly.”

“U-Ugly?” Sojiro gawked. “Futaba, you’re not ugly.”

“I didn’t say I was,” she grunted. “I said the girls in his class are.”

“It isn’t always about looks,” Sojiro pointed out.

“Well obviously,” Futaba huffed in annoyance. “NEET with a legit IRL boyfriend, remember?”

“IRL? NEET? What? I am so confused,” the man groaned, his head spinning from all the whacky teenage lingo Futaba was spitting out.

“Relax Sojiro, if you keep thinking he’s going to break up with me then you’ll be in for a big surprise when we both graduate high school.”

Wiping the shock off of his face, Sojiro crossed his arms and said, “You guys are way too young to be taking things so seriously. Especially you, Futaba.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Futaba glowered at her father.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” Sojiro shot back sternly making Futaba’s glare wither under the weight of his.

“Well you’re wrong,” she argued meekly. “Akira loves me and we’re going to stay together until we’re old and grouchy like you.”

“I'm not old!”

“Keep telling yourself that, grandpa.”

Sighing, Sojiro reached over and ruffled Futaba’s hair, chuckling at her frustration whenever she tried to swat his hand away.

“Unhand me!” Futaba hissed. "I will bite you!"

Narrowly avoiding her teeth, Sojiro yanked back his hand and said, “Look, Futaba, I’m not trying to be mean or say Akira’s a bad kid. The guy’s practically a saint for putting up with everything he had to. Because if I was him, well… let’s just say I wouldn’t have been as quiet and willing to follow that prosecutor lady to juvie—but that’s besides the point!

"I've seen firsthand how good he is to you and how hard he worked to make you happy, but I guess what I’m really trying to say here is I worry about you. I don’t want you planning your life around someone other than yourself. If you gotta do something do it for you, not him.”

“D'aw,” Futaba cooed, flustering him, “Sojiro, you big softie, you’re seriously worrying over nothing. Akira's my trophy wife, he’s not going anywhere.”

“H-Hey! Stop that this instant!” he bellowed. “I'm trying to be serious here!”

“I know and it’s so cute!” Futaba laughed. “Sojiro cares about me, Sojiro—hmph!!”

A strange niggling sensation in the back of her throat alarmed Futaba to the violent uprising occurring in her stomach. She didn’t have time to lose. Clamping both hands over her mouth, Futaba jumped out of her seat and made a mad dash to the bathroom. Futaba’s eyes began to water; she could taste it. With only a few seconds left to spare, Futaba pushed open the door and humbly threw herself before the porcelain throne in piety. Her knees hadn’t even hit the floor before the chunky brown liquid began spewing out of her mouth in great quantities.

Outside in the dining area Sojiro and the Taniguchi family were subjected to the perturbing sounds of Futaba’s Ode to Toilette.

“I knew this would happen,” Sojiro muttered grimly into his palm.

“Oh my, the poor dear,” Mrs. Taniguchi finally spoke up, wincing as a the sounds of a particularly nasty refrain slipped out into the open.

Sojiro peeked at the elderly couple through the gaps between his fingers and imagined an older Futaba and Akira trying to enjoy their meal. He felt awful for putting them through a new episode of useless teenage angst.

Breathing in deep, Sojiro dejectedly threw his dry dishtowel over his shoulder and said, “I’m sorry for ruining your evening, your meals are on the house tonight.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to,” Mrs. Taniguchi said with a smile. “You and Futaba-chan have such a wonderful relationship. My youngest daughter went through the same thing once.”

“Only it wasn’t chocolate milk she got herself sick on!” Mr. Taniguchi growled. “Your girl, she’s nothing like Nadeshiko. Be thankful for that.”

Mrs. Taniguchi glared at her husband and said, “She made a mistake and owned up to it. That’s better than what those girls we hear about on the news do.”

“Nadeshiko? Haven’t heard you mention that one before,” Sojiro said.

“And for good reason! She was eighteen when she found out she pregnant,” Mr. Taniguchi explained with a hint of remorse buried deep under his gravelly voice. “Her rotten, no-good boyfriend ran out on her when she told him. We didn’t even know she was dating someone until we came home that night to her drunk on the couch and crying. She had such a bright future ahead of her…”

“I-I'm sorry, I had no idea,” Sojiro apologized in shame.

“It’s not your fault, we don’t talk about Nadeshiko much,” Mrs. Taniguchi said sadly. “We tried to tell her about her options, but that girl was as stubborn as a mule.”

“What happened to her? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Mr. Taniguchi waved it off and said, “She ran away from home thinking we hated her. Stayed with a friend whose parents were sympathetic and that’s that.”

“No it’s not!” Mrs. Taniguchi cut in, slapping her husband's arm repremandingly. “She sends us letters and holiday cards with pictures of her family. The friend she stayed with is her husband now. And the baby she had out of wedlock just graduated high school with honors. It all worked out pretty well in the end.”

“Hah! Not the way I see it,” Mr. Taniguchi growled.

“You’re just saying that because Nadeshiko was your little princess and you’re upset she hurt you.”

The old man blushed and admitted to his folly. “Yeah and what of it? She didn’t even give us the chance."

“Hm,” Sojiro rubbed his chin and eyed the suspiciously quiet bathroom. “Hey Futaba, you alive in there?”

“I need healing,” Futaba groaned weakly, her voice hoarse and raspy.

After sighing for the umpteenth time this evening, Sojiro gave the Taniguchis a warm smile and said, “I should probably go check on her.”

“And we should probably head on home ourselves,” Mrs. Taniguchi chuckled. “We’ll leave the payment on the counter.”

“Bah, I said you didn’t have to!”

“Well I insist,” she replied sternly, leaving no room for Sojiro to counter. “Dinner was amazing as always, Sou-chan. And Futaba dear, please hold back on the chocolate milk!”

“Nev—hrmph!!”

Sojiro quietly watched the old couple pay and exit through the front door. When they were out of view, Sojiro shuffled himself out to flip the sign; it was about time he closed up shop anyway.

Stepping out into the cool spring night, Sojiro voiced out a curious thought, “Pregnant, huh?” The idea of Futaba ever having children made him laugh. “Hah, as if.”

Once he flipped the sign to closed, Sojiro thought back to the days he had Akira handle it. The mousy boy never complained or raised his voice in anger. He honestly reminded Sojiro of Futaba before she entered his care, broken, lost, and forgotten. A stain on society and a burden to those they relied on. It broke his heart to see two good kids get tossed around like that.

“I wonder how he’s doing,” he said to himself quietly.

When Sojiro entered his little restaurant, he expected the deathly wails of his ailing daughter not her unbridled laughter.

“Huh?”

“And then what?” he heard her say. Either Futaba had suddenly gained the ability to speak to ghosts or she was on the phone with one of her friends. “No way! Hah, totally serves them right for crashing our date.”

Definitely on the phone. Too bad about the ghosts, though.

“I still have your Big Bang Burger badges in my room,” Futaba said. “If you had them you wouldn’t have had to retake the challenge. You feeling alright? You sound worse than—aw, does the big bad Joker need his Oracle to rub his tummy?”

He should’ve known from the way she laughed and cooed that it was Akira on the other end. No one else could make his daughter sound that happy without bribing her.

“Hey Futaba, if you’re well enough to flirt, you’re well enough to get out of the bathroom!” Sojiro shouted. “Let’s get you home and into bed so you can rest.”

“Yeah, that was Sojiro. You wanna say hi?” Futaba asked, still comfortably holed up in the bathroom.

Sojiro pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. Did his patience know no bounds when it came to Futaba? Because if it were any other teenager they’d be dead.

“No? Alright—wait, I don’t want to hang-up yet!”

“Futaba, please, you have school tomorrow and it’s getting late,” Sojiro pleaded as nicely as he could. It wasn’t the best excuse to draw her out, but it was all he could think of on such short notice. “Just call him back when we get to the house or something.”

“Promise?”

Sojiro grunted in response.

“Deal.”

Futaba didn’t immediately exit the bathroom like Sojiro hoped. She turned the sink on and let the water run on full blast, the noise just loud enough to hide the final bit of her call from Sojiro's doglike hearing. It didn’t bother him though, this was nothing compared to the trouble they caused as the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.

The water eventually shut off and Futaba came out of the bathroom sporting a big smile. Her happiness was infectious, quickly spreading to Sojiro turning his perpetually downturned lips right-side up. The smile he wore was subtle in comparison, but it was filled to the brim with pride.

Futaba had been absolutely right when she said he was wrong. He’d never openly admit it, but Futaba had really come a long way since Wakaba's death and he owed it all to Akira and his ragtag gang of misfits. They saved her from her personal hell and even managed to bring justice to the man that stole Futaba’s mother from her.

_'Hey, Wakaba, you won’t hate me if I let Futaba keep this boy will ya? He makes her happy… and I think it might be the real deal with them.'_

“Boyfriend says hi,” Futaba chirped. “Told me to send coffee dad his love.”

“No he didn’t,” Sojiro barked. “Boy knows better than that. You’re going to make me break out in hives,” he scratched his forearm, “look it’s already happening.”

“Accept the love, Sojiro!” Futaba playfully yelled as she threw herself into his arms, giving his midsection a tight squeeze.

“Wha—?! Hey, cut that out!” he yelped with false anger.

Futaba snuggled her head into Sojiro’s chest, her breathing slow and soothing. Sojiro blinked in confusion but raised his hand to stroke her hair comfortingly.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For being so chill about me dating,” she answered. “I’ve researched it, y'know? When I showed up here on Valentine’s, I was worried about how you’d react. Dad’s are usually against their daughters dating, so I was totally prepared to lie and say I was only there to get Mona… but instead you just smiled and left us alone.”

“I wasn’t happy about it, but what could I do? I could either give you my permission or have you two keep going behind my back doing god knows what just to keep it a secret. I didn’t want to be like those overprotective fathers, you need the freedom and support. And I know that’s what Wakaba would want for you, too.”

“Thanks… dad.”

“Hmph, no problem.” Sojiro smiled for a brief second before dropping it and saying, “But no funny business until you two are properly married and out of my hair.”

“No promises! Gotta go, see ya, buh-bye!” Futaba said, ripping herself free from limp Sojiro’s embrace and straight out the door.

“Huh?” Sojiro gawked like a fish out of water. Futaba’s words were stuck in a loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. “What do you mean 'No promises'?!” he snapped. “Futaba, you get your butt back in here this instant!”

But Futaba was long gone.

“Futaba!” Sojiro screeched as he sped out of Le Blanc like a demon. “FU! TA! BA!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, grandpa.

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, hoo boy.


End file.
